Real or Fake?
by blowofftheheat
Summary: Brittany can't differentiate real from fake and she never wanted to. But, Santana came along and Brittany was forced to try. was Santana real? or is Santana just a figment of her imagination? one-shot


**Author's note:** i know my writing isn't very good, but this idea has been plaguing my mind since... forever and so, i decided to share it with you guys. So i urge you to forgive my mistakes :/

**Disclaimer: **i don't own glee whatsoever.

* * *

I never really could tell real from fake, dream from reality. I never really knew how to.

I suffer from this... this thing. I don't really know what it is though. The doctor spoke in broken little snip-lets. It was like those olden day film rolls that you're able to cut a tiny part off then tape it back together and the film would roll on smoothly but just with rough and incomprehensible dialogues. My visit to the doctor's was like that. Actually, my conversations with anyone before the visit were like that, which was probably why I was sent to the doctor's anyways.

My parents had to fill me in afterwards because as far as I'm concerned, I vaguely remember talking to the bearded, bespectacled man in the lab coat. What I did remember, very vividly, was a Mr Schuester with an oddly commendable haircut, talking about singing and wearing the right shoes. He later then gave me a heap of pills and told me to take them regularly so I'll stop seeing him ever so often, but I've been taking the pills diligently and I still see him every day during glee and Spanish.

Obviously, he lied. And so did the people who told me that teachers were always right, because no, teachers are liars too.

So, I complained to my parents about Mr Schuester, that it was not permissible for him to lie because he's a teacher. They had told me that he didn't really say that, that I was hallucinating, that nice Mr Schuester with the oddly commendable haircut wasn't real.

Later on, I was told that Archie Cranberry, the boy from the supermarket that always offered me free cranberry juice, wasn't real.

Uncle Mower. The neighbour who has a horrible habit of talking extremely loudly but always helped us cut the overgrown grasses at our backyard. He wasn't real.

Then there was Mailbox boy, the boy with the big friendly sunshine smile that I always catch sitting at the edge of the steps to my house waiting for me when I run out to fetch the mail. He wasn't real either.

At the age of 17, I learnt that all the nice people in the world aren't real. So I prefer staying in my own little world, where all the nice people are, where Santana is.

Santana's special. Santana's _very VERY _special. She was the only one that was constantly there, the most tangible hallucination, if she is one.

We met when at the impromptu super-intense cheerios boot camp my coach, Sue Sylvester who clearly isn't a figment of my imagination because she was evil, had organized to boost us for the upcoming competition. _See I told you, evil._

She sent us out into a nearby forest for a super-intense amazing race during the second day of the weeklong camp and I had gotten lost. We were supposed to follow a trail of light sticks. Green sticks at the beginning of the route, yellow means you're in the middle and red signifying the end of the horrible ordeal. I had reached my third yellow light stick and then never saw any light sticks anymore.

It's was a forest, everything was green and brown and slimy, I really couldn't navigate properly.

I had heard that Sue Sylvester sent the whole cheerio team to search for me and while the other 20-30 cheerios couldn't find me for 13 hours, Santana found me within minutes. This stemmed the speculation that Santana might be one of my hallucinations, one of my most ingenious creations.

* * *

We scoured around like lost little duckies for a bit, trying to find light stick trails or evidences that might lead us back to the camp, like the really big palm tree with three really big coconuts that I've been eyeing ever since we pitched camp. But soon, we were covered with a sheen layer of perspiration, the sky grew impossibly darker and the forest grew more and more ominous. By then, my constant worry of Santana being able to smell the body odour I might be emitting transformed into fear and I couldn't stop asking questions.

Santana could've walked off on her own and save herself from the anguish of enduring my whines and need to blabber on incessantly to quell my insecurities, but she didn't, instead, she lent me her cheerios jacket and warmly told me we shouldn't talk too much in case something big and ugly hears us and attempts to devour us. I didn't want to be eaten, so I tried my best to keep quiet and started to get extremely fidgety.

"Why are you moving around so much?" she asked in a hushed whisper from her spot beside me. We were reduced to sitting on a fallen log right next to an enormous tree with a bird's nest resting on one of its branches.

"I...I, um I need to try and stay awake." By then the time slot for me to consume my medication has long passed and being lost in a jungle wasn't a situation very appropriate for constant blackouts and paralysis attacks. I really didn't want to put Santana on the spot.

She furrowed her dark brows cutely in confusion.

She had very nice eyebrows.

"I didn't take my pills..." I confessed softly, hoping she didn't hear. I didn't want her to think I was some kind of a psycho that had to rely on pills to maintain my sanity, because let's face it; no one wants to get lost in a jungle with a psycho maniac and Santana's really pretty, but i couldn't bring myself to lie to her.

She looked at me for awhile, scrutinizing me, her dark brown eyes searing into my blue eyes trying to figure out what might be wrong with me._ Don't ask, please don't ask. Don't ask don't ask don't ask. _I pleaded in my head.

And she didn't.

She simply mouthed a soft okay and gave a curt nod before continuing to draw on the soil with a huge fallen branch. She drew a cute little bird, the bird who resided in the nest on the gargantuan tree towering over us.

I realised something was wrong when the trail of ants on the soiled ground begun to teleport around. The big black ant I was staring at disappeared suddenly right before my very eyes and when Lord Tubbington, my monster of a cat, started to paw at my leg. Because, What was he doing here?

"shit.." i muttered, struggling to stay awake.

"did... something?" I heard Santana's voice ask.

I couldn't answer, because I really didn't know what she was saying.

"wow...got...bad.." I heard it again still not understanding it, but this time her voice was so soothing and it was dripping with so much care that it made my heart do a little dance inside of my chest and when it did, I was more petrified than ever.

I was so so _so_ afraid that Santana would just... vanish.

"don't go..." I heard myself whisper.

Much to my astonishment, Santana scooted over and grabbed my hand abruptly.

A wave of what felt like electricity shot up my hand and jolted me awake. I never blacked out again for a long time, which was a miracle in itself, because I didn't take my medicine.

I think she realised it too, because she didn't let go.

We sat in silence under the beautiful dark night sky. Although getting lost in a forest at night was creepy and cold as hell, I didn't mind, because Santana in all her beauty, whatever she is, is presently and irrefutably next to me holding my hand.

" _What a Beautiful night sky," I thought with a contented sigh. _

_BEAUTIFUL NIGHT SKY!_

Deciding to make the best out of the situation, I gave her hand a tight squeeze.

She shot me a quizzical look. Her dark brows furrowed, I was getting used to that expression.

I leant over and whispered softly in her ear, "that means, 'hey'..."

Then I squeezed her hand four times and this time she looked at me with the same puzzled look but with a ghost of a smile splayed across her lips.

"That means, 'the sky is beautiful'"

Her mouth curved into an amused smirk as she caught onto the agenda of my actions.

She nodded her head vigorously and looked up to the sky that was littered with hundreds and hundreds of tiny specks of light.

_Squeeze. Pause. Then three tight squeezes._

It was my turn to be confused as I looked to her and cocked my head to the side.

"It means, 'yeah. It is beautiful'" she whispered.

If we weren't going to speak out loud, then we were going to communicate by squeezing each other's hand.

Our only link.

* * *

The night progressed with irony. It was getting darker and darker and it was almost pitch black, there might even be a dinosaur lurking behind the tree for all we know. It would be impossible to find us under such conditions. We were going to be stuck in an actual forest that was littered with poisonous snakes, wild boars, bears and spiders for the whole night_, _completely vulnerable to the foreign place,

But, we felt completely at peace. Blissful even.

For a few hours until the sun started to rise and restore our vision, we communicated with simple squeezes and tiny movements of our heads and faces.

Because even a squeeze can hold a vast range of possibilities, so, we concocted a fixed and simple template. One squeeze was, "are you cold?" two squeezes meant, "Tired yet?" and three unanimously meant "don't worry, we'll be okay." We didn't decide on a definite meaning for three squeezes but three squeezes naturally spoke of reassurance and care so we took it as it came.

Of course, as the sky started to light up we heard voices calling for our names and we were found.

When we got back to camp and Santana was nowhere to be found, my body collapsed and I fainted.

* * *

After that episode in the forest, Santana and I became inseparable friends. Our special way of communication didn't end though. We continued to send tiny, unnoticeable to the naked eye, squeezes but through linked pinkes because Santana didn't want people looking our way and thinking we were romantically involved, something about having a reputation to keep.

That's why; my three squeezes usually _secretly _meant "I love you". Simply being with her like this was the best I could ever ask for, so there was no reason for me to confess and ruin it all.

I was the happiest person in the world.

Until...

One night, I was having dinner with my parents and was talking incessantly about Santana, because how could you not commend someone as perfect as her? People needed to know that nobody, no matter who he or she was, was perfect and so was Santana. But my father stopped me mid-speech and with sympathy filled eyes he asked,

"Have you been taking your pills conscientiously dearie?" he asked in a practised tone, sparing a glance at the direction of my mother. They've talked about it.

They don't know if Santana is real.

And I didn't either.

I ran to my room and cried to sleep that night. They were right; Santana IS too nice to be true and I've learnt from a young age that nice people only existed in my mind.

My unorthodox mind.

I went to school the next day and asked around discreetly if Santana was real. They all looked at me with those eyes... those same sympathetic eyes.

"Yeah! Of course Santana is real!"

"Sure Santana's real!"

"Santana's as real as anyone can get!"

Could I believe them? Should I believe them?

Archie, Mr Mower and the mailbox boy had disappeared several months ago but I haven't gotten to snooping around and asking for the reason of their disappearance.

Maybe, Santana wasn't real either.

Maybe I combined them all and created a perfect being called Santana.

I had to find out. I had to.

So, that day, I waited for the hallways to be filled and gave Santana's pinky three unusually tight squeezes before pushing her against the lockers with a loud bang and kissing her square on her lips. I could feel her body become impossibly rigid from shock.

She pulled away and dragged me out of the crowded hall with a deep blush on her face, she walked so fast that I didn't have time to turn back and gauge the scale of the reactions I had gathered. If people noticed, then she must be real.

She pulled me and walked and walked, her hands gripping mine with increasing force. Santana pushed me against the door of her car with so much force that I was sure a dent formed on the door of her car.

"What was that Brittany!" she screamed. Screamed.

"I have told you before. I fucking _TOLD _you! I told you that we have or _had_ a reputation to keep! Do you know what they'll say behind our backs Brittany? Do you even fucking think about the consequences before you act huh? Everything is always about you, you, YOU! What about me? You've ruined my life Brittany, you've ruined 18 years of hard work with one simple, _disgusting_ action!" she continued to yell while pacing and ended her chiding by boxing the door with her fist.

I had never seen her so angry before. Not with me on the receiving end. I was so stunned that my mind went blank and I could only offer her the truth.

"I...I... I just wanted to see if you were real" I replied remorsefully under my breath.

She stilled her angry pacing and whipped around to look at me, look into me actually.

Her dark brown eyes were burning with so much anger, disbelief and so much hurt that I flinched at the sight of it. And before I knew it, she stormed over and slapped me. She slapped me hard, so hard that I lost my footing and stumbled to the side, instinctively clutching my pulsing cheek.

When I looked back at her armed with thousands of words to apologise for my uncharacteristic stunt, all was caught in my throat was I realised she was shaking with tears.

Santana fucking Lopez was crying.

"s...san" I reached out to touch her shoulder but she shook it off instantaneously

"DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME!" she yelled, impossibly louder.

I felt as if Ares took a slug at my heart

"After all these time and you doubt my existence?"

Another slug. I felt my knees grow weak at how timorous her tone sounded.

"Fuck you Brittany" she cursed through clenched teeth.

The contempt in her voice shook me to the core and I stood rooted to the ground idiotically as she brushed past me and drove away.

_I let her slip away._

That day when I returned home and my parents asked me what had happened to my face, I fell to the ground and cried and cried and cried. I cried till my eyes hurt, till my chest felt so constricted and until I fell to the ground unconscious.

_What have I done?_

* * *

At night, we ate dinner in silence; I was all too tired and spent to speak.

"dearie.." my father began, "what happened?"

With that, I snapped.

I stood up abruptly. The sound of the chair toppling to the ground bounced off the wall of the kitchen and back into our waiting ears.

"What happened? WHAT HAPPENED? HOW COULD YOU ASK WHAT HAPPENED? I did something horrible to Santana today because, YOU!" I pointed to both of them, "I doubted Santana's existence! I doubted the existence of the ONLY person who's genuinely nice to me, I doubted someone I LOVE because the people who supposedly loves me doubted me, because my parents are _constantly _questioning my sanity. "

Then the realization dawned on me,

"And now I've lost her. I let her slip away and now I've lost her" I breathed as I dropped to the ground and sobbed. I unconsciously banged my forehead against the kitchen room floor and clawed at my forearms as I hugged myself and cried, hoping the physical pain would push the ache that has settled in my chest away. It hurt so much I'd rather much prefer being burnt to death.

I felt my parents try to stop me from banging my head onto the kitchen floor further and my hands from clawing at my skin any further by hugging me tightly, all the while, apologising fervently.

Just like that, this family of three, not counting lord tubbington, sat on the kitchen floor in a brawling mess.

* * *

After a grueling three hours, we begin to pull ourselves together. One person breaking down was enough, we can't have the whole family break down because if a whole family breaks down, then who's going to pull us up?

"Go get her back Brittany.." my father whispered, "go get her and prove to us that she's real." He challenged. He said it not because he didn't believe Santana exists, the mark on my right cheek was evidence enough, he said it because he believes she is.

And so do I.

With a curt nod, I grabbed my, no_ her_ cheerios jacket and ran out of the house. I knew where her house was. I had spent hours for a whole month walking from my house to hers, then back, just so I won't forget where she is. Just so I could keep my promise to be there any time she calls.

I ran. I sprinted. I far exceeded my physical capability without the pills to keep me awake, but for some reason, I stayed awake.

I kept running and running not stopping until I had to slam my hands against the door to keep from ramming it down.

"SANTANA!" I screamed her name while slamming the door rapidly. I didn't care that my palms were starting to pulse and tear.

I love her; I love her so much I cannot lose her.

"SANTANA LOPEZ!" I continued to slam the door with my hands

"SANTAN.."

The door was pulled open abruptly and I was yanked into the house. The living room and kitchen was a blurry mess as we quickly proceeded to advance up a set of stairs and into her room.

Santana slammed her door shut and locked it before whipping around to face me. Her eyes were blood shot and her face was screwed up in a snarl.

_she'd been crying. i made Santana cry._

"WHAT?," she started loud at first before sneaking a glance to the door and lowering her volume, "what are you doing here." She hissed with menace oozing out of her tone.

"San, I..."

"You can't just go over to someone's house and start banging on the door screaming their name like your life depended on it."

"No san listen I..."

"Much less someone you don't even believe is real" she scoffed and looked away from me as tears started to well up in her eyes.

"I just want to apologise San.." I said, trying to catch her eyes.

She sighed and closed her eyes while rubbing her temples.

"You can't say sorry and expect to be forgiven for things like these Brittany." Her voice started to tremble as tears rolled down from her closed eyes.

She covered her eyes with her hand, attempting to shield her current state of vulnerability from me.

"I can't believe you thought I was just one of your hallucinations. how could you? You've hurt me too much..." she breathed while shaking her head.

_How long has she been crying for? How much did I hurt her? How stupid can I get? Of course Santana's real! I've known that all along._

__"I don't understand what I did to have made you think that Britt. I really don't think I can.."

"I love you" I blurted. I didn't care anymore; if i had to lose her i choose to lose her with her knowing exactly how i feel about her.

Santana dropped her hand and shot up to look at me. Her expression was unreadable and it scared me, but the wild thumping and swelling in my chest urged me to continue.

"I've learnt from a very young age that all I've come to love isn't real, that everything in the world that's nice and heart-warming wasn't real. So I decided to stay in my head, in my own little world where nice and happy exists perpetually. Then, you came along."

My cheeks were starting to heat up and my eyes were blurred completely with tears.

"you came and found me and held me and cared for me, in all your beauty. You were just so..."

I raised my hands and gestured to the whole of her at the position I thought she was at.

"Perfect. And... and no one is just that perfect." I scoffed. Because it really was an impossibility for anyone or anything to be as perfect as Santana was.

"So I just had to. I just had to wonder if you were real."

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and timidly looked back to where Santana was previously to see if she was still there.

And she was.

She stood there with all traces of anger and hurt in her eyes gone. She stood there and looked at me with disbelief and doubt.

Hoping to remove the traces of doubt she was harbouring, I took a tiny step towards her and stilled, testing the waters. When she didn't make any movement to deny my advances, I walked up to her and took her hand. Immediately, the familiar jolts of electricity shot up my arm and disappeared somewhere in my chest. I gave her hand three strong squeezes and leant over to whisper into her ear.

"That means, had always meant and will always mean. 'I love you'"

With that, she collapsed on the ground and started to cry, clutching at her chest and holding my hand tightly.

Then I could feel, hesitantly but surely, she squeezed my hand three times.

I fell to the ground in tears as well and held her as her tears soaked through my uniform. My hand combed through her hair as gently and soothingly as I could manage and continued to kiss her on her forehead whispering,

"I'm so sorry, Santana. I love you so so much. I love you very very much"

I held her together that night, much like she had been holding me together since the day she found me.

* * *

Since that episode, although Santana still blames me when we get our occasional dose of face slushies and mocking stares, we had grown incredibly closer and our three squeezes finally had a definite meaning.

I was happier then the happiest person on the planet.

* * *

"have you brushed your teeth?" I asked Santana as I crawled onto the bed she was already perch on.

"mmhmm.." she hummed while reading the black hard cover book in her hands.

"don't lie," i accused.

she frowned and placed her book down before cupping my cheeks and pulling my lips to hers.

Her plump and soft lips gently caressed mine as she kissed me.

she gently took my bottom lip between her teeth and sucked on it, eliciting an involuntary moan from me.

i felt soft thumbs slowly rub my cheek bones and down the faint scar i had on my right cheek from before and i knew she was feeling guilty again.

My tongue entered her mouth and I knew where she was headed to, Santana had never been one to control her desires.

When i tasted Santana and colgate, I felt contented. She always tasted so amazing. I played along with her for awhile before smirking and pulling away.

"Not tonight Sanny." i laughed as she flashed me a petulant pout.

"i'm tired.." I yawned as I pushed her to lie down on the bed and laid my head onto her chest.

The rhythmic thumping of her heart was like music to my ears. My favorite music.

"you owe me..." she replied softly, half-asleep.

I nodded, not trusting my voice as tears started to run down my cheek.

i thought about Santana and all these foreign happiness I had been feeling recently and thought,

_will__ she vanish after all?_

__I watched as she slept peacefully, taking in all her features, trying desperately to retain everything about her. I watched like a watch dog guarding it's owner's house. I bit down on my lower lip as my body started to tremble from the sobs threatening to escape. i didn't want to wake Santana up, I didn't want her to know that i was still having all those insecurities, i didn't _want_ to have insecurities, especially if Santana was involved in the equation.

Even though Santana was powerful enough to rid me of my black outs and hallucinations instantly,being used to living in a pool of insecurities was something I have had all my life, it was a code hard to crack. It would take even Santana a while to rid me of that.

But how wrong i truly was.

She stirred awake as I pushed a bunch of stray fringe from her eye and opened one eye sleepily.

Flashing me a small smile, she grabbed my hand and placed it over her chest, pressing it down so i could feel her heart beat crisp and clear.

"feel this Britt-Britt. Feel this and know that I'm really here. That, I'm never going away."

and just like that, my lifetime of insecurities was thrown out of the window, never to be felt again.

-The End-

* * *

oh ya! um, Ares is the Greek God of War.


End file.
